The Scorpion King's Lover?
by Dragonmoon-Eclipse
Summary: I've finally gotten a chance to post CH 3. Enjoy.
1. Uncertain Future

I decided to write a Scorpion King fic before the movie came out. I thought that if I were to wait, the movie plot itself would entirely change my piece.  
  
Disclaimer- The character Othias, the Scorpion King does not belong to me. I have written an original version of his personality, as I have obviously not seen TSK yet. Also, in case I decide to go that far into the plot within later chapters, all characters from TMR that may appear do not belong to me.  
  
Well, that should do it for the disclaimer. Well, enjoy and please R&R.  
  
  
  
Myst sat at the edge of the rough hewn, wooden bench thinking back to the day that had taken her to the slave pens of Egypt, and forcing herself not to weep. She stared out at the barren desert surrounding the city of Alexandria, so very unlike the green, mist-shrouded hills of her beloved Ireland.  
  
One of the local children stopped and stared at her for a long moment. She felt a wave of discomfort as the girl pointed her out to her mother, who also stared for a second before moving off down the sandy street. Myst was as out of place among even the other slave women as a bird of paradise among ravens. While the others all had dark, straight hair and eyes of a deep brown like those of the native people, Myst had long, fiery, red, hair which naturally fell in cascading waves, and eyes of dancing emeralds.  
  
She sighed softly, having not slept since her arrival, as she was not yet used to this heat. The slavers had kept her in a sheltered pen so that her pale complexion would not be colored by the sun. She had overheard them speaking of the high price that her exotic looks could raise. Little did they know that she had picked up much of their language on the lengthy journey from her lands to this strange place.  
  
Her initial fear had been overcome by a sense of helplessness and then one of acceptance. The others, who had been captured closer to this place still had a chance to escape. If they were to escape, they could blend into the crowded marketplace. She however stood out among these people of dark features. For her there seemed to be no way out.  
  
The moonlight shone lightly on the desert sands, the night making them appear to be a strange blue color. Myst yawned, rising from the bench that served as a bed, seat, and table for her. She sighed, brushing some freshly shed tears from her face and whispering aloud, "At least I got a bit of sleep tonight."  
  
She stretched silently and then curled up on the cold ground beneath the bench, hoping that sand would be slightly more comfortable of a bed than a slab of rough wood. She sighed softly, laying on her side, looking away from the bars of her cage, and tucking her arm beneath her head and neck for support.  
  
She heard voices outside of her cell door. Myst fought against her instinctive tensing and forced herself to stay still as stone. She kept her breathing rhythmic, as if she was indeed asleep. A pair of male voices was speaking quietly in the language of that region of the world. The language that she had already mastered. One was the voice of the head of the slavers, the other one she vaguely remembered hearing before, but she could not place it.  
  
The strange voice spoke, "His majesty wishes a few new girls for his harem. Bring the red angel from this cell along with nine of your other girls tomorrow in the afternoon." At the mention of herself, Myst squeezed her eyes closed. She lay in the pleasantly cool sand, trembling inside. Why did it have to be a harem? No less the one belonging to the King? "The King shall choose the few among their number that please them. It will be worth your while."  
  
"But sir, she is an untamed one. She will not even speak her name to us…"the tone of the slaver's voice told Myst that the other was a man of some great importance.  
  
The stranger interrupted him. "The King prefers untamed creatures. He finds great pleasure in training them to obey his will. Women are no exception to this."  
  
"Yes, of course, High Priest. It shall be done." The voices moved away from her cell door, and for the first time she cried while she was awake, wondering about her uncertain future.  
  
  
  
Author- I meant to get to the part where Othias comes in, but regrettably I don't have time to today. Please R&R, and let me know if I should continue with this one. And please, no flamers. This is my first fanfic. 


	2. Ornament of Glass

Well, here's chapter two. Please keep those R&R's coming. I am also open to ideas on how this story could progress.  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own the Scorpion King….yadda…yadda…yadda…  
  
That's everything I think, so enjoy.  
  
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To her astonishment, Myst was actually able to fall back to sleep that night. She did not dream at all, her fatigued body needing the rest. She awoke at sunrise to find a meal of cold bread and watery ale just inside of her cage's door. Next to that lay a long skirt and shirt of white cotton, a pair of simple leather sandals, and a few pieces of cotton fabric in assorted sizes, a deep basin, a roughly made brush, and a large pitcher of cold water.  
  
Myst filled the basin with water and dipped in her hair, washing it quickly and then wrapping it in one of the makeshift towels. She then dipped another, smaller cloth into the water. The woman washed and dried quickly. She then put on the clothing, seeing with a great deal of discomfort that it was skin-tight and that it revealed all of her body. It was only a little more concealing than being completely nude would be. She towel-dried her hair and then ran the brush through her thick, copper mane, knowing that the hot desert air would soon dry it completely. Myst dumped out the basin of water in a corner of the pen, the parched sand soaking it up quickly.  
  
She then picked up the bread and weak ale and sat on the disconcertingly familiar rough bench. Myst drained the ale quickly, so that she would not have to taste it. She forced down the dry bread, sipping at the rest of the cool water from the pitcher that she intentionally not used for washing.  
  
Two of the slavers entered her small cage soon after she had dressed. One held a pair of iron manacles, which were connected to a long chain and a collar of the same metal. Myst began to back away from them, as the one with his hands free moved to her left, trying to circle around behind her. She continued to move away until she hit the corner of her pen. She lunged for the one on her right as the one on her left leapt behind her and grabbed her. She elbowed him hared in the gut, but he stood unmoving and pinned her arms to her sides and slipped one leg in front of hers, effectively making her immobile. She cursed softly as the other placed the hated iron around her neck and wrists. The metal affected her immediately, slightly weakening her due to her partially fae heritage. All that prevented her from being immediately fully weakened to the point of barely being conscious were the few hours of sleep that she had gotten, and the slight meal that she had eaten earlier.  
  
All nine of the other women huddled together just outside of the King's audience room doors. Each of the two doors set within the frame had an intricately forged, metal scorpion along its length. Though the others were trembling and allowing their fear to outwardly betray them, Myst was not about to let anyone intimidate her to the point of visible fear. She stood apart from the others, her features unwavering in their expression of total calm and control, her shoulders set and her head up.  
  
The leader of the slavers yanked her aside. "This is your chance, girl!" he hissed, his face close to her own, his foul breath hitting her in the face. His voice filled with intense hatred, his every word threatening. "Behave yourself or face my wrath. You are to act like the lowly wench that you are! Understand me?"  
  
She nodded delicately. Inwardly she wanted to deck him, but her will again conquered her wishes. She remained in his grasp a moment longer. After glaring at her for a few more seconds, the slaver roughly shoved her towards the others.  
  
Myst moved over to the door and peeked through the crack in the door. A wide aisle led to the throne and along its sides were many chairs, some of which were occupied. Her gaze zoomed in on the man sitting at the far end of the chamber, the man who was the Scorpion King. He was sitting at the far end of the chamber, looking extremely bored as a few people sitting on the sides of the room rattled on among themselves. She was too far away from him to really get a good look at his features, the fact that he was sitting slumped in the throne did little to aid her sight. She sighed softly, closing her eyes and knowing that she would be seeing him better soon enough.  
  
She debated on whether or not to try and remove the iron manacles and collar. Myst knew that it would prove to be fruitless. There was nowhere for her to go once she did escape. A small, sad smile spread across her lips as an idea formed within her mind.  
  
One of the palace guards spoke briefly to the King and then moved towards the door. Myst moved a few paces to her left, so the man would not bump into her. The guard opened the door and entered, flashing Myst a quick, kind smile as her realized that instead of standing around uselessly she had been surveying her surroundings. He turned to the slaver. "The Scorpion King will now see your women. Send them in one at a time, unaccompanied. Ladies, when you enter kneel before his majesty."  
  
The slaver nodded. He then turned and pointedly glared at Myst. "You are last."  
  
After the guard had rentered, Myst went back to her door-crack vantage point. Each of the women entered the room as they were bade, trembling and pale, all falling flat to the floor and cowering before the King. He sighed after each one entered, his bored expression not altering. Myst watched the pitiful spectacle. And then it was Myst's turn to take the walk.  
  
She tossed her auburn locks and then entered the room, a smile upon her face. She had been slightly weakened by the iron, but not by much. As she walked towards him, she noted that his body was that of a muscular warrior. His sleeveless, black tunic revealed his powerfully built chest, and scattering of scars showed themselves on the places of skin that the tunic did not cover. His features were handsome and chiseled, his eyes showing a trace of interest as she entered boldly and unafraid.  
  
She reached him, and instead of sinking to her knees she stood straight, unyielding to the whispers of the members of the court. The smile upon her lips did not fade, and her eyes challenged him, daring him to put a stop to her defiance. She spoke not a word, her actions displaying her mental power and strong-willed nature.  
  
After a long moment, a pair of guards started towards her, swords drawn. They set the points of their blades against her, one upon her throat the other against her side. One of them spoke in a threatening voice. "Kneel girl."  
  
The smile still did not fade from her lips. She had decided that she would rather be dead than be this handsome man's slut. Submitting to his power would be a slap in the face, both to her people and her Goddess, and at least this way she would die as the Celtic warrior woman that she was, not as some of the weaklings that had entered before her would. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blades to do their work and silently offering a prayer to Brigid, the Goddess for which she served as a warrior-priestess.  
  
Her eyes opened again and she glared into the eyes of the Scorpion King. Her eyes betraying her desire to die the honorable death of a warrior.. He wanted to smile, having never before seen a creature so like himself. Othias rose from his throne and moved down the few steps towards the girl. He held up a hand, signaling his guards to hold on for a moment. Each nodded. He looked into the woman's emerald eyes. He forced his voice to be stern and commanding, and wiped all of the traces of amusement that he had felt from it. "You will not kneel before your King?"  
  
She felt her smile spreading slightly. "Why ask questions for which you already know the answer? I am a Warrior-Priestess of the Goddess Brigid. I kneel to no man."  
  
He finally allowed the small smile to slip to his face. "Finally, a lioness among the sheep." He gestured for his guards to lower their blades. Then he turned to one of them. "Arrange for the purchase of this woman. None of the others interest me. Then escort her to the harem and tell the other women to prepare her for me tonight."  
  
Myst looked at him. "You know that I would prefer to die…"  
  
He ascended to his throne and looked at her. "Never have I seen one with such spirit among the slaves. You will live."  
  
She followed the guard, forcing herself to keep up the façade of strength. She would never allow this man to see her cry, she vowed silently. Myst moved from the throne room, her hopes of a warrior's death having seemingly been shattered before her eyes, like a dropped ornament of glass.  
  
Othias sat on the throne, watching the fiery woman leave the room. For a split second, he had glimpsed a tiny bit of despair beneath her strength. He shook his head in disbelief at her boldness. Hers was like that of one certain mare that he owned. Caught wild, he had refused to tame her, and had just merely gotten her to trust him. After the trust had been built, she had carried him into many victorious battles. He could never break a spirit that beautiful.  
  
  
  
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Author- Well, that's it for Chapter Two. Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading this far, and I will try to get Chapter Three up A.S.A.P. 


	3. Sunset

Hey, I am so sorry that it's taken this long for me to post Chapter 3. As I said, I have been working on finals, which I am halfway through now. After my graduation on June 7th(yay!) I'll post more frequently. As always, please R&R . Also, let me know what you would like to see happen in later chapters.  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own the Scorpion King…well, by now you know the rest of it.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
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She had been led to the royal sleeping chambers an hour before. Her iron chains had been replaced with ones of silver, and she was chained so that she could move freely about the room, but she could not leap over the edge of the balcony. Looking down she saw that jumping would have been fruitless anyways. The fall would not have been enough to end her life, but that it was high enough so that she would be too injured to run.  
  
Myst stood at the window, looking out at the city. It was close to sunset, and the quickly fading light highlighted everything. The buildings seemed to glow orange in the light. She shook her head at the strangeness of this place, and began softly humming a song from her homeland.  
  
"That song is pretty. I've never heard it before." She recognized the voice as that of Othias instantly. She whipped around.  
  
He was lounging in a chair across the room from her, the bored expression that she had seen in the court now replaced by a calculating one. It was as if he was merely looking at a newly purchased beast and figuring her worth. Myst did not know which expression she disliked more.  
  
"Aye, you would not have. It is from me homeland. I did not hear you enter."  
  
He smiled softly, rising from the seat and starting to move towards her. "I can move silently when I wish to."  
  
She stayed still while every instinct in her body screamed at her to back away. She would not allow him to see her fear. She knew what would happen if he discovered her what she was, so she forced down the change that usually accompanied fear this intense.  
  
Othias stopped a few feet away from her and glanced out of the balcony window at the darkening sky. "What do you think of my beautiful Egypt?"  
  
"It is….different….from what I am accustomed to." She willed herself to keep the change at bay, knowing that she was trembling slightly. This time she was unable to control her outward signs of fear.  
  
"What is it like there?" He put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Myst closed her eyes, knowing that they betrayed her intense fear. She was trembling more, and fear clung in her throat, making her unable to speak.  
  
Othias looked at the girl who stood there, her temper even overshadowed by her fear. He spoke softly and gently, moving his hand from her shoulder to grip her hand reassuringly. "Look at me."  
  
She opened her eyes and met his intense gaze with her own. Something about his voice made her trust him, though every ounce of sense that she possessed told her not to.  
  
"You have never been with anyone before, have you?"  
  
Myst looked at the floor. Something about the kind tone of his voice made the woman who would have normally killed a man for such a question mumble softly, "Nay, I have not."  
  
"Alright then. Would you like to talk for a while first then?"  
  
She looked at him. He was the first person in her life to take her completely off guard. She nodded. "That would be nice."  
  
Still holding her hand, he moved over to a small table in the corner of the room. He gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs.  
  
As the king stood there talking to some slave woman, he watched from the balcony across from the royal sleeping chambers. He laughed softly as the fool comforted her and led her inside. Tonight would be the night that he would strike. Tonight would be the night that the fool would die.  
  
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Author- So, do I still have your attention? The next chapter will be up ASAP. Thanks for your patience. 


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